


I Want A Baby

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [24]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy is having a Winston Bishop moment, F/M, how does she get out of this, when your prank snowballs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22316287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: alaskarostova requested Darcy/Brock and the "text your boyfriend 'i want a baby' meme":
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484168
Comments: 194
Kudos: 559





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *I own nothing!

“Why are you giggling?” Jane asked Darcy. Darcy looked up from where she was grinning at her phone on the other side of the couch. They were drinking chardonnay and making fun of the television.

“I’m playing a trick on Rumlow,” she said. They’d been hanging out together a lot since the move to DC. Not romantically, he and Darcy were just friends. But Jack Rollins had mentioned that Rumlow _hated_ pranks and then Darcy had seen a thing on Twitter that got her thinking...

“Please tell me there are no guns involved,” Jane said. She had reluctantly committed to SHIELD after years of naysaying and was still dubious.

“Nope,” Darcy said. “No guns.” She grinned at the screen. She’d texted him one line, from a social media joke.

_Text your boyfriend…_

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** I want a baby.

Just the one line. Nothing else. Even if Rumlow wasn’t her boyfriend, it was still a good joke. “What is it?” Jane asked. Darcy tilted the screen so she could see and Jane made a sharp noise. “You did not!” she said.

“I did,” Darcy said, smirking. “Now we wait.” She got up. “More two buck Chuck?” she said to Jane. 

“He is going to kill you!” Jane said, as Darcy paused to start their dilapidated dishwasher. It called for duct tape; she slapped a strip across the counter and down over the edge of the dishwasher to help it run. The sensor was wonky. Or the edge liner. Something like that. They’d made it work for years with tape. 

“We really should buy a new one,” she told Jane. They’d carted it from Virginia to New Mexico and back again. Taken it out of storage because Jane was still radically cheap and disinclined to spend money.

“It works with the tape, why replace it for a cosmetic reason?” Jane insisted.

“At some point, we need to do the math on dollar store duct tape,” Darcy said. “We might have invested in enough duct tape for a new dishwasher. Or at least a scratch and dent model.”

“Phffft,” Jane said. “Wait, you’ve got bubbles!”

“Bubbles?”

“Texting bubbles,” Jane said, as Darcy brought over the wine bottle. A series of rapid-fire notifications sounded. _Ding-ding-ding._

“Ohhh, he got it! ” Darcy said, snatching the phone.

**Old Stallone:** What?

 **Old Stallone:** You’re fucking kidding me

 **Old Stallone:** I hate this goddamn display name

 **Old Stallone:** C’mon, you’re joking, right? 

“He thinks I’m kidding,” Darcy said. “Boo.”

“No fun,” Jane said. Just then, the phone rang. Darcy almost dropped it.

“Shit,” she said, fumbling. “It’s him!”

“Answer!” Jane said, laughing.

“Shhhh, shhh, shut up, no laughing,” Darcy said. She composed her face. “Hey--” she said.

“Are you drunk?” Brock said.

“What? I’m not wasted,” she said, pretending to be offended.

“You don’t want a damn baby,” he said.

“I can’t want a baby?” Darcy said.

“You didn’t want to hold Gunderson’s baby,” Brock complained.

“It was screaming and needed a diaper change, I am not stupid,” she said.

“Why are you even calling me, though?” Brock said. 

“I thought you could help me out with, you know, _the stuff?”_ On the couch, Jane was pressing her face into a cushion to muffle her laughter.

“What stuff?” he said.

“You could be my, uh, donor? My daddy donor,” Darcy said. There was a long moment of silence. Jane was shaking with silent laughter now. Darcy thought she was probably going to laugh until she cried.

“You want my, uh, sperm?” Rumlow said, whispering the last word.

“Helen did heal you after you were done with the Crossbones undercover thing, I’m sure yours are very healthy,” Darcy said. “And you’re fit.” At the mention of Helen Cho, Jane looked up from her pillow and made a disgruntled face. Darcy made one back.

“Yeah,” he said.

“And it would be a pretty baby,” Darcy said.

“You’re fucking with me,” he said. “Besides, you can’t have a damn baby. You live in that crummy apartment with no security--” he began.

“I have a Thor!” Darcy said, a teensy bit offended. Rumlow was kind of a lifestyle snob. But he’d bought a place in DC years ago and had several decades of steady salary and no student loans. She had to resist the urge to be all _okay, grandma_ when he scolded her about things because he had no concept of her ballooned student loan balance vis-a-vis her current salary after years of pseudo interning for Jane (aka, crashing on her mom’s couch and pooling their tens for Chinese food).

“--you have a ten year old Civic and your dishwasher don’t work,” he added.

“Excuse me, that car is a miracle of Japanese engineering and it has the big digital speedometer,” Darcy said. “I love my old car. Take it back!”

“How you gonna fit five car seats in there if we end up with quintuplets?” Rumlow said.

“W-what?” Darcy said.

“What’s happening?” Jane said in a heated whisper. Darcy shrugged.

“You do the IVF thing, you get multiples,” Rumlow said. 

“Not always, though. Right?” Darcy said doubtfully.

“What is he saying?” Jane said.

“IVF and multiple babies,” she said, covering the receiver.

“Oh,” Jane said.

“Is it always multiples?” Darcy said out loud.

“I think you can, um, selectively, you know--” Jane said, gesturing. She stopped. “Have less? Once it takes.”

“Excuse me?” Rumlow said. “Is Foster suggesting you selectively abort my kids? _My children?”_ He was doing an offended voice she’d never heard before.

“Shit. He heard me!” Jane said.

“Yes, I heard you,” Rumlow said, through the phone. “My children,” he muttered.

“Who wants five at once, though?” Darcy said. “It’s not unreasonable.”

“It’s not like you can pick the good one,” he said slowly. “I mean, what do they do? Pick the biggest embryos?”

“Maybe,” Darcy said, making a face. This was taking her joke to uncomfortable levels of reality. She didn’t want to contemplate the logistics. She looked at Jane. Jane was looking at her quizzically. Darcy frowned, then got an idea. Logistics. Baby-making logistics. _Oooh._ A wicked idea. She winked at Jane.

“What?” Jane said.

“Well, we don’t have to do that…” she said into the phone.

“You _want_ quintuplets?” Brock said.

“No, I meant, uh, that….we could always do this the old-fashioned way,” she said. “Very limited risk of quintuplets when you’re, um, more, uh, old-fashioned?” She tried to sound like she was being tentative. Darcy waggled her eyebrows at Jane.

“Old-fashioned,” Brock repeated.

“Sexually, I mean,” Darcy said. “Old-fashioned. Classic sex.”

“I got that,” he said. Across the couch, Jane had clapped a hand over her mouth and was actually laugh-weeping now. There was silence on the phone. Darcy was afraid she’d laugh, so she kept talking.

“Without protection,” Darcy added. “That would be new. For me, I mean. That part. Not, like, the missionary position or whatever.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Do you want me to come over tonight?”

“You want to get pregnant tonight?” Darcy said, stunned.

“What?!” Jane said.

“To talk,” Brock said. “I mean, I--we gotta talk about this, all right?” 

“We--we could talk,” Darcy said. 

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be over in fifteen.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. She hung up and stared at the phone. “He’s coming over here to talk. About a baby.”

“What are you even _doing?”_ Jane said.

“I don’t know!” Darcy said, succumbing to full-blown hysterical laughter. “How do I stop this?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The baby talk.
> 
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Hey,” Darcy said when she answered the door. Brock was standing on her porch. He looked around and sighed. “Are you coming in?” Darcy said.

“This is a terrible place to raise a kid,” he said. Behind Darcy, Jane started to laugh. Brock looked more aggrieved. “I’m being serious, Foster,” he said. 

“Just get inside!” Darcy said.

“So you admit this is a bad neighborhood?” Brock said, turning almost gleefully smug-faced. Jane was full-on giggling now.

“Stop that,” Darcy said. She glared back at Jane on the couch. “You, too. Don’t laugh,” she said, giving her a pointed look.

“Did she start this?” Brock said, looking at the scientist. “Put this idea in your head?”

“Why would she?” Darcy said, startled. 

“All your craziest stories usually start with ‘Jane said….’ and end with you in a near-death scenario,” Brock said seriously.

“A baby’s not near death--” Darcy began, but stopped and turned when Jane spoke suddenly.

“Of course not! This is _not_ my idea,” Jane said, narrowing her eyes in a dangerous way. _Uh oh,_ Darcy thought. That meant something worse was coming next. “Besides, if I wanted Darce to have a baby, it wouldn’t be with you,” Jane said, almost haughtily.

“Jane!” Darcy said. “Bad, mean, no.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Brock said. “I’ve got health insurance, a home, and no other kids. I’m a fucking catch. Plenty of women--”

“Exactly,” Jane said. _“Sooo_ many women. We’ve all heard you brag about the number of apartments you’ve fled without your shoes.” She rolled her eyes. 

“It was one apartment,” he complained. “And it was my socks. I couldn’t find my socks. And she was HYDRA. Actual HYDRA, not fake like me and Rollins, Foster. It wasn’t worth the socks if she found out I’d copied her flashdrives,” he said. His voice was scolding. Darcy stifled a laugh at his affronted expression. Brock had a bit of rep as a womanizer. Darcy had actually become friends with him through Clint and didn’t mind his risqué jokes and crazy stories, but she could see Jane’s point. He didn’t exactly scream fatherhood material. They’d bonded when he’d brought really good tequila to a Jane and Thor welcome get together, made her an excellent margarita, and joined her in lovingly heckling a trashy Nicolas Cage movie with a serial killer and a jaguar on a boat when everyone else was doing shots and getting Thor to lift them. Darcy--who loved heckling trashy movies almost more than she liked serious ones--had immediately slotted Brock into the _Mad, Bad, & Dangerous to Know (Biblically-Speaking) _ category. She’d thought she could be great friends with him if she treated him like Clint. They’d spent time together doing random stuff since then. Brock had taken Darcy to some new-to-her DC restaurants, laughed at her attempts to use a kettlebell, and consented to being dragged to a Kat Edmonson concert without complaining that it was just them and a bunch of retired jazz enthusiasts. It had worked out okay so far. Until now. “And who’s better than me? Who’d take care of Lewis? Treat her good?” Brock said. Jane looked canny. She tilted her head. _Uh-oh,_ Darcy thought again. That face. That was Jane’s smartass face.

“I’d pick...Cameron Klein,” Jane said. 

“He’s near-sighted!” Brock said.

“So am I,” Darcy pointed out. “And I’ve seen you wear reading glasses!”

“It doesn't matter if you’re near-sighted,” Brock said, gesturing dismissively. “But he’s not right for her,” he told Jane.

“He can read at an appropriate grade level,” Jane said. She loved messing with Brock.

“I can read,” Brock said. 

“Guys, don’t fight,” Darcy said. 

“Oh, I’m not fighting--” Jane began, before Darcy made a frustrated sound. 

“Chill out,” Brock told Jane. “Or I’ll veto you as godmother to my kid.”

“Rude,” Jane said.

“You’ll always be the godmother whenever I have a baby,” Darcy said loyally.

“So, you really want to do this?” Brock said. He shed his jacket. 

“Not in front of me in the living room,” Jane said, finally giving in to her laughter.

“I’m not taking off all my clothes--can you give us a minute, for Christ’s sake?” Brock said.

“We can talk in my room,” Darcy said. “C’mon”--she seized his forearm, ignoring Jane’s wry look and towed Brock forward.

“You’re not serious, right?” he said, as they walked down the hall. Her bedroom was second. “You can’t have a baby here, look, you left candles burning,” he scolded, as they approached her open door.

“They’re LED,” she said. “Perfectly safe.”

“Really?” he said, as she shut the bedroom door behind them. “They’re not real,” he said, sounding surprised. “Huh.”

“No. Ummm,” Darcy said. Intelligently. She looked at Brock, uncertain of how to proceed. He looked so weird in her bedroom, just standing there. He leaned back against her dresser and looked expectantly at her, palms on the dresser’s edge. The gesture made him look even more masculine somehow. Was it his arms? It was probably the arms, she thought. His biceps were massive now. SHIELD was doing field recertifications in a few weeks and he’d retooled his weightlifting regimen for some sort of fractional upper body strength metric gains she didn’t understand and gotten even stronger-looking. Sexier, if that was possible. She tried not to think about how sexy he was when they were together. Or drink too much. God, why had she done this stupid prank? How could she explain? “Look, I wanted to--,” she said.

“Yeah?” he said, smirking. “We were talking about having a baby?”

“A baby,” Darcy repeated. 

“You want to have a baby with me?” he said, tipping his chin down and pushing off the dresser to get closer to her. 

“Um, I don’t know how to explain,” she began, feeling herself blush. 

“I know,” he said. “It’s okay, Lewis, we’ll figure it out. We should do this first.” He smirked, then leaned down and kissed her. Darcy sucked in air and involuntarily did a little _meep_ of surprise. “You okay?” he teased, pulling back and then nuzzling her face. 

“Yeah,” Darcy huffed out, embarrassed. “Why--why are you kissing me right now?” she asked.

“Cause this is how babies get made, I thought we could practice a little,” he said, kissing her again. He cupped her neck and deepened the kiss. She was, frankly, enjoying this, even if he’d surprised her. She pressed her body against his, seeking contact, and felt him palm her ass with his other hand. 

“Uhhhhmmm,” she moaned. He squeezed and slipped his tongue in her mouth at the same time. Darcy felt herself melt as he backed her towards the bed. Maybe she could wait until he was done kissing her to tell him about the prank? Just a few minutes? She didn't want to ruin the moment. He lowered her slowly, then climbed on top of her. He felt too good. She wanted to run her hands all over his body. Her own lust took her by surprise. “Brock,” Darcy said as he kissed her. His hands were under her t-shirt. He pulled back. 

“Hmmm?” he said.

“I know how babies get made,” Darcy said. He grinned and untied the waistband of her lounge pants, sliding them down. He was so pretty, she thought, stupidly buzzed and turned on and just generally stupid. He looked very into it, though.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said, smirking at her flower-print underwear. “Very cute baby-making panties, Lewis,” he said, unbuttoning his pants.

“Wait, stop,” Darcy said. She couldn't lie to him. He was kissing her neck because he thought she wanted to get pregnant. That she wanted a baby. His baby. Which was insane. She pressed his shoulders back. “Brock!” she said, shaking him a little. He didn’t really budge. He stopped and tilted his head.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he said. 

“Brock, I can’t--it was a prank. There’s this meme about texting your--texting someone _I want a baby_ as a joke,” she said, hands on his biceps. She couldn't look at him. “I, uhh, thought you’d cuss me out and it would be funny,” she started, then realized he was laughing. “What?” Darcy said. 

“Lewis,” he said. “I know what this is about.”

“You knew?” she said, not following. Brock laughed. He pushed her hair back, grinning. 

“You think this is the first time this has happened to me?”

“What?” she said. Darcy looked at him. He licked his lips. _Oh God._ It was sexy. She leaned towards him automatically. He leaned closer.

“Happens all the time. We’ve been spending all this time together, you know? You’re bound to think about it--”

“Okay,” Darcy said, still not getting it. “Think about what?”

“You want to hook up with me,” Brock said, smirking down at her. “This is the weirdest way anybody’s ever tried to get me to fuck ‘em, but I’m game.”

“Excuse me? You think I sent that because I wanted to hook up with you?” Darcy said, confusion turning to offense. “It was a prank!”

“C’mon, baby,” he said. “You get into these bizarre situations, this is classic Lewis. You wanted to sleep with me, so you invented this elaborate, crazy scenario to get me here--”

“You think I _planned_ this?” she said.

“I know you did. The candles?” he said.

“They’re on a timer!” Darcy said. “They come on every night!”

“They do, huh?” he said, smirking.

“You know what I mean.”

“And the cute panties? I’m not an idiot,” he said.

“Those are cotton!” Darcy said.

“Mmm-hmmm,” he said, eyeing her eagerly. “I like the whole sexy assistant thing you’ve got.”

“W-what?” 

“It’s hot that you don’t try so hard. So, what about the condom? You really wanna skip it?” he asked. Brock grinned widely. “Is no condom part of the fantasy or something? Like a pregnancy role play deal?” he added. He gave her a frankly dirty look.

“It’s not a fantasy, it’s a genuine meme,” Darcy said, “I can’t believe you think this was a plan!”

“If you want sex, you can just ask me for sex,” he said. “We’re friends, just ask for sex.”

“Hold on,” Darcy said, “get off me.”

“What?” he said. “Don’t stress, Lewis. I like wild shit, too. Whatever crazy fantasy you’ve got, I’ll play.”

“I’m not having sex with you,” Darcy said. “Get off.” He rolled over onto the bed with a huff and frowned at her, then grinned.

“You don’t wanna get off?” he said.

“This was a prank that snowballed, not a plan. I don't have some ‘crazy’ fantasy”--she did air quotes--“about you getting me pregnant, okay?”

“Really?” he said, voice clearly skeptical. 

“Button your freaking pants.” 

  
  


“What the heck was that?” Jane asked Darcy, after she marched Brock to the door. 

“He tried to get me to have sex. He’s pretending to pout and have hurt feelings, but he’s really enjoying this. Can you believe that?” she fumed.

“Yes,” Jane said.

“Yes?” Darcy repeated.

“The man does duck face selfies, of course he pretends to pout,” Jane told her. “Is there more wine?”

“Sometimes, he’s just so annoying. He thought I wanted him over here for sex! And that I liked to get freaky with pregnancy role playing!” Darcy said.

“Oh, I definitely need more wine for this,” Jane said.

“Who has pregnancy sex things?” Darcy wondered. 

“Some people,” Jane said. At Darcy’s look, she continued, “you would not believe the things people write about Thor online.”

“Oh.” Darcy got more wine. “Really?” she said. “Getting pregnant? Swollen feet? Backaches? The eventual needing help out of chairs phase?” she asked, refilling their glasses a fraction.

“Thor would help you out of a chair,” Jane said. He was currently visiting Loki in jail. Relatively minor Asgardian treason-y things this time.

“Yeah. That’s accurate, I guess?” Darcy replied. She was doubtful, but Jane scrunched her nose.

“It’s mostly about ejaculation, I think,” she said. Darcy sighed.

“Jane.”

“Think about the importance we place on feeling like a desirable love object, Darce. So many fantasies women have are about being wanted and really desired,” Jane said, shrugging. “So….?”

“What’s greater proof of desirability than being covered in semen?” Darcy said. “Sure. Okay.”

“Now you’re being purposefully obtuse. You know what I’m talking about--he wants you so much, he isn't even in charge of his own body,” Jane said. “In a weird way, that means the woman--or whatever gender it is, the lover has all this unspoken power.”

“O-okay,” Darcy said. She got up and moved towards the kitchen again. “Power pregnancy fantasies,” she muttered. “Really?”

“Who unbuttoned his pants?” Jane called out.

"That wasn't me!" Darcy insisted guiltily. _Only because he thought of it first._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makeunders?
> 
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Have you talked to Brock?” Jane asked a week later. Darcy looked up from the chair at the hairdressers. They had taken a long lunch for Jane to get her hair done to celebrate a work breakthrough and surprise Thor. Darcy was fully in support of Jane’s new self-care routine. 

“Nope, but oh my God, you’re going to look so cute!” Darcy said, dodging the topic of Brock. He’d sent her a text apology, she’d accepted it, and now she was avoiding him--verbally and physically. She’d figured out his routine enough that avoiding him at work was possible. Mostly, she was afraid she’d look like a complete idiot. And what if was he making fun of her? That would be the worst. She silenced the nagging voice that whispered she was missing doing random stuff with him. And also kissing. 

“I look like leftovers,” Jane said, gently poking the highlighting foils in her hair. 

“Please, you look adorable!” Darcy said.

“I wonder if he’ll be surprised?” Jane wondered. 

“He’ll like it,” Darcy insisted. Thor was beauty-treatment supportive like that. He never made fun of Darcy for wearing dramatic lipsticks in shades of crimson red, fuschia, and even blackish plum. Plenty of guys hated that kind of stuff, but not Thor. He would happily play in Darcy’s eyeliner.

“What about you? You just want a trim?” the hairdresser cutting Darcy’s hair asked. Darcy looked in the mirror and studied her reflection. Her hair was center-parted, her foundation matte and pale, and her lipstick red. Those had been her go-to beauty tricks for years. Her family teased her that she looked like Morticia Addams, but she’d loved Morticia as a kid. She’d been letting her hair grow out until it reached the small of her back and dying it nearly black. It was long, thick, and dark. Ian had liked very long, super dark hair and it had been easy to skip haircuts when she traveled around with Jane. She’d braided it a lot or stuck it up in messy updos. But it also took forever to dry, required massive amounts of hair products to straighten and was so long, it wouldn’t hold a wave well anymore. Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt _heavy._ Like she was pale and drowning in hair. Like she needed something different.

“Well,” she said. “I kinda feel like a change. What if I took it up to here?” she asked, pointing to somewhere between her shoulder and armpit. “Still longer, but I could wear it wavy?” she said, scrunching her nose in thought.

“Ooooh,” the hairdresser said. “You’re sure?” 

“Sort of like it was in London?” Jane said. Darcy nodded.

“Yup,” she said. “Just keep it long enough that I can put it in a ponytail or a bun,” she said. She watched as the hairdresser sectioned and cut. Plop went at least a foot of hair onto the floor. Maybe more. Jane videoed it on her phone, posting it with a tag about _makeovermamas._ At the end of the haircut, Darcy looked at her returned waves and grinned. “I think we should cut more,” she said. When they were done, she had light, bouncy curls that swung around her shoulders.

She couldn’t stop playing with her hair over the next few days. It was easy to put up, dried in record time, and even the color looked less harsh somehow. She’d been browsing the news when she made a _hmmm_ sound. The new haircut made her think about changing her makeup, too. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jane asked in the lab.

“Meghan Markle,” Darcy said. She’d been Googling to try and figure out how Markle’s updos always looked so casual and trying to pull out strands around her face.

“You’re not going to stalk Prince Hot Ginger if they move to Canada, are you?” Jane said dubiously. Darcy loved Prince Harry.

“Nooooo, but I like her makeup. Look at how glowy she is. I want to be glowy, too,” Darcy said. “I’m pairing down my makeup, Jane.”

“By buying more makeup?” Jane said, laughing.

“Obviously,” Darcy said, grinning. She bought tinted moisturizer and sheer lip balm online. _Goodbye to all matte,_ she thought. When she told Jane her joke, Jane blinked. “Joan Didion! The ‘Goodbye to All That’ essay about leaving New York?” Darcy said. “C’mon. And you know how much I love _Slouching Towards Bethlehem.”_

“This is why you need a man who can read,” Jane said. “Why don’t you let me set you up with Cameron for real? Everyone’s going for a drink to celebrate Sharon Carter’s birthday on Friday, I could say something to him?”

“Nope, he’s a doll baby, but I’m not ready to date again yet. I think I want to try yoga,” Darcy said, pushing aside the nagging thought of Brock. “Would you go to yoga with me?”

“Oooh, yeah,” Jane said. “Yoga.”

“And I want to do some other healthy stuff, too,” Darcy said.

“Like what?” Jane said, frowning.

“Go to bed earlier, not drink so much, so---”

“Maybe not drunk-text people baby memes?” Jane offered.

“Shut up. I was going to say, so I can get to work on time, you, too,” Darcy said. “I’m the one who wakes you up when Thor’s gone!”

  
***

“So, it turns out we’re both horrible at hot yoga,” Jane was saying to Cameron Klein when Darcy realized Brock had arrived at the restaurant to celebrate Sharon’s birthday. He was with Jack Rollins. She tried to be cool and waved politely. Jack smiled, but Brock looked at her oddly. Darcy decided to ignore it. At first, she’d wanted to avoid him, but now she was actually missing him. She didn’t want any more awkwardness, though. He might accuse her of being clingy and weird if she told him she missed him. They’d exchanged a few texts, but not seen each other.

“Yup,” she told Cameron. “I fell over a bunch, Jane slipped in her own sweat--”

“I swear to God, someone near me farted,” Jane said. 

“Oh God,” Cam said, “remind me not to do that.”

“We were doing these twists, it was bound to happen,” Darcy said, fidgeting with a strand of her hair. She realized Brock was watching her. Why was he watching her? Suddenly, he came over, holding a glass.

“Got you some rosé,” he said.

“Oh, thank you, but I’m, uh, not drinking--” Darcy began.

“What?” Brock said.

“They’re on a health kick,” Cam said. “You should hear their yoga stories.”

“I’m not on that big of a health kick, that’s just Darcy,” Jane said, taking the glass. “I’ll drink it!”

“Thank you,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes at Jane. She smiled apologetically at Rumlow. “Sorry,” she said.

“Since when do you turn down rosé? You love that shit,” he said.

“I’m working on my sleep schedule, trying to wake up earlier,” she told him. He’d scolded her about her poor sleep habits before, so she expected him to smile. Instead, he frowned. 

“Okay,” he said. “You busy on Saturday? I thought you might want to see a movie?”

“Oh, yeah--” Darcy said, smiling. “I’d like that--”

“We’re using our trial yoga passes for goat yoga, remember?” Jane said. 

“You and the kids at goat yoga,” Cam joked.

“Oh, yeah,” Darcy said. “Sorry. Maybe we could do something Sunday?” He nodded and then wandered over to Rollins after some polite small talk. He looked...weird. Darcy couldn’t figure it out. He kept staring at her.

***

“Are you fucking seeing what I’m seeing?” Brock whispered to Jack.

“What?” Jack said. “Oh. She’s still avoiding you, mate? I told you it had to be a joke, you idiot.”

“No, look. Look at her, for fuck’s sake,” Brock said, mouth forming a grim line.

“What?” Jack said. He tilted his head in puzzlement. "You're obsessing. Just ask her out on a bloody date like a grown up," he said, for about the tenth time this week. Rumlow was in denial about his feelings for Darcy. He'd insisted they were just friends, but then jumped at the chance to sleep with her, and was now pouting about how she'd turned him down. Jack knew he was infatuated.

“Klein is hanging around, she’s got that new haircut, and--you don’t see it?” he said. He sighed and closed his mouth. 

“I don’t,” Jack said. 

“Foster said Klein would be better than me,” Rumlow said. “If she wanted a kid for real.”

“Yeah?” Jack said. “She’s probably right, he’s very responsible. A lot younger than you, too.”

“Fuck you,” Rumlow said. 

“So?” Jack said, sipping his beer to hide his grin.

“She turned down wine. She loves wine,” Rumlow added, shifting his weight. That was a tell he was anxious, Jack knew. 

“Yeah?” Jack said.

“And she’s got that new haircut,” Rumlow said.

“It’s a nice haircut,” Jack said, sighing. What in bloody hell was Rumlow talking about?

“It’s more practical,” Rumlow said. “You know when women cut their hair shorter,” he said, then tilted his chin forward.

“When they bloody want a haircut?” Jack said.

“Fuck, are you blind?” Rumlow said in a heated whisper. “Look at her. She’s not drinking, Klein’s there, she’s cut her hair.” He gestured roughly with his beer bottle.

“All right,” Jack said. 

“She’s fucking _glowing,_ Jack,” Rumlow said quietly. 

“And that means something, huh?”

“She might be pregnant already,” Rumlow said grimly. Jack choked a little on his beer. “They’ve gotta be tryin, she already looks different--”

“Pregnant?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rumlow said. “She’ll hear you.”

“So, you think,” Jack said slowly, “that she’s really trying?”

“I dunno. Maybe,” Rumlow said, crossing his arms and frowning. “Look at the evidence. No wine. Haircut. Glow.” He ticked off each one on a finger, stony-faced.

“All right,” Jack said, holding his lips together to stifle his laughter. It had been a week and a half since she’d kicked Rumlow out of her bed. There was no way she was pregnant. He was mad as a cut snake. Jealous, Jack thought, of Cameron Klein. Rumlow had been fussing about the situation all week. He’d been touchy about his education, too, which meant Foster had nicked him close to his ego. 

“Look at her,” Rumlow muttered. She _was_ radiant, Jack thought, but that was possibly the soft gold lighting in the restaurant making her look more tan than normal. 

“Sure, mate,” he said neutrally. 

“That’s what they always say, isn’t it? They glow?” Rumlow added in a low, unhappy voice.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit early?” Jack said, trying to bring rationality to the conversation. In response, Rumlow huffed like an injured animal. 

“I can’t believe she’s really doing this and she didn’t pick me,” Rumlow said. That was the moment Jack lost it. He laughed so hard, people looked at them. Rumlow glared. “Why you gotta enjoy my--my discomfort?” he complained.

“That’s just your ego,” Jack said, chuckling.

He was less amused when a drunk Rumlow called him at 2am to rant about some hashtags on Lewis’s social media. “Foster tagged it with mum?” Jack said, trying to make sense of his rambling about a video of Lewis getting her hair done. He turned on his bedside lamp.

“Mamas,” Rumlow repeated. “She’s definitely trying to get pregnant. I forgot Klein made a joke about kids. She had a green juice this week instead of coffee, too. That’s a sign. I gotta fucking do something.” 

“Mate, I hate to break it to you, but if she’s trying to get pregnant with Klein, that means it’s already been done,” Jack said, rubbing his face.

“No, no, no,” Rumlow said. “You don’t fucking get it. She could still want me, you don’t know. She was into me, I know it. I gotta think. What do pregnant women like?” he asked. Jack frowned at the phone, then looked over at his sleeping boyfriend.

“I don’t bloody know what women like, period,” he said, laughing. “Go to sleep, you drunk idiot. She’s not pregnant. There hasn’t been time.”

“Okay, okay,” Rumlow said. “I’ll think of something. You think I still got time?”

***

Darcy was crashing on her couch on Sunday when the doorbell rang. She shuffled to the door, sore from yoga stretches and slightly hungry. It was Brock. “Hey,” she said. He looked at her from behind mirrored aviators and smiled. “This is a surprise,” Darcy said.

“I brought you chocolate,” he said, holding up a bag. “M&Ms. And I’m here to rub your feet.”

“Really?” Darcy said. “Why?”

“You know why,” he said, grinning. “I messed up. I’m fixing things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is half inspired by pregnancy stereotypes & half inspired by Natalie Portman's blonde-ish lob when they announced Thor 4 at San Diego Comic Con?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Ohhhhh, Brock.”

“That feel good, Lewis?” he said. He was rubbing her shoulders. She rolled her head back.

“Really good,” Darcy said, biting her lip. She stifled a moan. His fingers were pressing into the knot directly below her shoulder blade.

“Flop down for me, sweetheart. I’ll get that shoulder blade,” Brock said, patting the couch cushion. Darcy sighed and sank down on her belly. She expected Brock to sit next her, but instead, he straddled her hips and dug his fingers into her back.

“Oh God,” Darcy said. “That’s incredible.”

“Good,” he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. Darcy shivered. She heard him chuckle. “I know what’s happening here,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” Darcy said. They’d watched a goofy action movie, heckled it, and she caught him sneaking some of her M&Ms and bartered a shoulder massage in exchange for a promise not to tell Rollins she’d personally witnessed him consuming chocolate. “What is happening here, Rumlow?” she said. “I mean, you’re eating M&Ms, something’s obviously happening.”

“Yeah, something is,” he said, sounding amused. “You’re hanging out with Klein and not drinking your girly wine--”

“Are you jealous of Cameron Klein?” Darcy said, trying to turn her head. “Ow.”

“Don’t do that,” he scolded. “I’m not jealous. I think you could do better, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

“Lewis,” he said quietly, “is something going on between you and Klein?”

“No,” she said.

“I just--you’re not pregnant, are you?” he said.

“What?” Darcy said, half-rising in shock and accidentally elbowing him in the stomach.

“Christ, your elbow is like a machete--” he began.

“Do I  _ look  _ pregnant to you?” she said.

“You’re all glowy,” Rumlow said. “I thought maybe--”

“You asshat,” Darcy seethed, purposefully elbowing him now. “Get off me.”

“Ow, Lewis, stop stabbing me and we’ll talk, all right?” he said, seizing her elbows. “I didn’t say you looked fat, I said glowy---”

“Ahhhhhhh!” Darcy shrieked, furious. She wiggled free and turned over to face him. “I cannot believe you, you--” she said, poking his stomach with her index finger. He looked down at her, frowning. 

“Glowy, I said glowy! That’s a whole different thing. It’s sexy,” he argued. “You’re sexy.” He grinned. 

“I hate when you smirk at me,” Darcy said, feeling herself blush.

“You don’t like my smile?” he said, smirking in a wildly lascivious way.

“It’s not a smile, it’s a thinly veiled boob leer disguised as a facial expression,” she fumed. His smirk widened as his eyes drifted down her chest. As Darcy realized her neck was actually visibly pink-- _ oh shit _ \--he stuck his tongue out and licked his lips. “Stop that,” she said, trying to sound stern and formidable. She could be formidable. She squeezed his shoulders. 

“You ever notice how we keep ending up with me on top of you?” Brock said.

“Brock,” she said. Sternly.

“You wanna be pregnant for real? Or are we just going to practice?” he said. 

“I--I am not having a baby with you, you’re totally irresponsible,” Darcy said. “Also, you flirt with other women if I’m more than two feet away--”

“Who? Name one! Name one woman,” he said.

“That Lydia with the nose ring--”

“That was banter,” he said.

“Jennifer, Melissa, Sharon Carter--” Darcy listed out.

“I stabbed her, so think you’re pretty safe,” he said, shrugging fluidly. He licked his lips again. “Darcy,” he said warmly. He leaned down, closer to her mouth. His expression was eager.

“Stephanie, Lauren, Kristen,” Darcy said, looking over his shoulder. “Who am I forgetting? Lisa?”

“Mmm,” he said, sinking his weight down on top of her. “None of those sound familiar. I've forgotten every woman but you, sweetheart.” He kissed her neck.

“A ridiculous lie,” she said, ignoring the heat she felt between her legs. Darcy wiggled. She could feel muscle. Lots of muscle. Brock chuckled, mouth still against her neck.

“Keep doing that,” he said quietly. “And I’ll give you a massage every damn night.”

“Again, a flagrant lie--”

“How?” he said, looking wry. She made eye contact. He tilted his head quizzically. It was the look of a particularly intelligent predator. Like those  _ Jurassic Park  _ raptors figuring out door handles, Darcy thought.

“All men say they’ll give you foot massages and back rubs before you’re in the relationship. You take your clothes off,  _ boom _ , goodbye massage,” she said, eyes lingering on his neck. How did he have such good muscles everywhere? “It’s a ruse. A sex ruse.”

“I could always write you some IOUs?” he offered.

“Sex coupons?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. He leaned down to kiss her slowly. It was a good kiss, soft and lingering. Darcy lost her resolve to be good when she felt his tongue in her mouth. When he pulled back, she followed him instinctively. He gave her a wickedly smug look. “You like that, huh?”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “Get condoms.”

“We’re practicing then?” Brock said. He grinned. “All this good genetic material and you only want to practice?”

“Phhhfffft,” Darcy said. “Take your pants off before I change my mi---ohhhhh,” she said. He’d slid his hand down her body and into her yoga pants. “Oh God,” she moaned, kissing his neck frantically. He kept touching her until she came, hips jolting. 

“I’ll get that condom now,” Brock said, kissing her forehead and reaching for his wallet.

“Wha-what?”

“This is just part one, sweetheart,” he said, smirking. “And we need to get you out of these clothes.”

  
  


They were having sex on the couch when the door opened. Jane shrieked. That was startling. “Oh my God! I sit on that couch!” she yelled, hiding behind the front door.

“Whoops,” Brock said. “Bedroom?”

“Dammit,” Darcy said. “Okay, fine. Where did you throw my yoga pants?” There was a naked scramble for clothing.

“You could’ve at least put down a blanket! The throw is right there on the back of the couch,” Jane scolded. “Two inches from your old man balls, Rumlow.”

“Your boyfriend is a thousand,” he grumbled, trying to find his briefs on the floor.

"Sorry, Jane," Darcy said.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“There’s nothing weird about my balls, right?” Brock said in a low voice. He was whispering. Darcy snorted into the phone. He’d called to ask her out to a movie and then brought up Jane’s comment, like it bothered him.

“They’re fine. I think?” Darcy said.

“What’s that mean?” he said.

“It’s not like I’ve done comparative studies,” Darcy said. “They seem normal to me. What movie are we seeing?”

“You want to see _Little Women_ or something like that?” he said. Darcy laughed.

“God no, let’s see something I can heckle,” Darcy said. “Or an action movie. What’s playing that looks fun?” He mumbled something indistinct, then Darcy was hit by an idea. “Did you want to see _Little Women_?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“We can see it,” she said, grinning and winking at Jane across the lab. Jane mouthed the movie title and waggled her eyebrows.

“No, no--” he began.

“What my baby wants, my baby gets,” Darcy said, doing her best Vince Vaughan. There was a momentary pause on the line.

“I’m your baby, huh?” he said.

“Yup,” she said. “So you pick the movie and I’ll go along with whatever you want.”

“Really?” he said, sounding delighted.

“Abso-freaking-lutely,” Darcy said. “I only require popcorn and somewhere to hide my face if the violence is too oozy. Preferably a good bicep.”

“Yeah?” he said, chuckling. 

“You still have two, right?” she joked. When they hung up, Jane looked at her curiously. “What?” Darcy said.

“You goofballs are in love,” she said.

“I feel vaguely insulted by that,” Darcy said. She giggled. “He wants to see _Little Women!”_

“Does he know Beth dies?” Jane said. 

“Oh God, probably not. Should I warn him?” Darcy said. 

They saw _Little Women._ He did not know about Beth. Darcy tried to covertly pass him tissues in the darkened movie theater. “I’m fine,” he whispered, but took a tissue anyway. “I didn’t know this movie was so goddamned intense,” Brock said. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said, squeezing his arm. He was still distressed when the lights came up. She thought his eyes looked a little red.

“He married her sister!” he said. “How could he do that?”

“I know,” Darcy said, rearranging her scarf. “I’m taking home the popcorn.” She’d gone for a refill during a scene without Meryl Streep.

“How do you propose to a girl because you’re in love with her and then marry her sister?” Brock repeated, as they walked to the car.

“No idea,” Darcy said, “but I don’t have a sister.”

“That was fucked up,” he said. “At least somebody propose to nice Beth before she dies or something.” Darcy restrained herself from laughing at his offended expression and snuggled under his arm instead.

“This is really why I prefer Bruce Willis action movies,” she said. “Plus, I think it’s a little insulting when people say Beth’s tragedy is to not matter like her sisters because she doesn’t write a book or go to Europe or whatever.”

“Assholes,” Brock muttered. “She mattered.”

“We’ll go home and heckle something,” Darcy told him. She grinned. “You’re secretly very sensitive, aren’t you?”

“I’m pissed about Beth,” he insisted. “You wanna get some wine?”

“Sure,” Darcy said. “Unless you’re drinking your feelings, ‘cause that’s unhealthy.”

“Drinking your feelings is the American way,” he said, unlocking the car. 

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, getting in the passenger seat. She grinned to herself.

“You think I should quit drinking?” he asked.

“What do you think?” she said, curious.

“Maybe I drink too much when I’m single,” he said, sighing. 

“Yeah?” Darcy said neutrally.

“I could quit,” he said.

“Sure,” she said. “Not that you need to quit cold turkey.”

“I could, though,” he said.

“Sure,” she agreed. “You’ve got great willpower.”

“Are you quitting forever?” he said.

“I’m just cutting back a little,” she said. “But not on everything. We still have some M&Ms.”

“Good,” he said. 

“Yeah?” Darcy said, grinning. She leaned over and kissed him. He was still for a second, then cupped the back of her head and kissed her intensely. “That was nice,” she whispered, when they broke apart. He looked at her. “What is it?” Darcy said.

“I’m glad we’re dating,” he said. 

“I’m definitely not giving up sex,” Darcy told him, a giggle bubbling in her chest. He blinked, then pulled her in close. The second kiss was more passionate than the first. He seized her waist and pulled Darcy over the console, half into his lap. They were making out when Darcy heard laughter. She pulled back and looked up. Brock was kissing her neck when she realized it was a group of teens laughing at them. Another movie must’ve let out and people were walking in front of the car. “We’re making a scene,” Darcy said, grinning. Brock lifted his head from her neck with a grin.

“So?” he said.

“I haven’t been arrested for public indecency, but it might be fun,” Darcy said. He smirked slowly.

“Another time,” he said. “You owe me a Bruce Willis movie after this one.”

“You wanted to see that!” Darcy said. 

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Okay,” Brock said slowly. “I got all the gear in this bag. Agent Wu says this is everything we’ll need for this.” He lifted the shoulder where the elephant-print bag was slung and looked back at Rollins. 

“Yeah,” Rollins said. The two agents with him nodded, trying not to laugh. It was a struggle to keep their expressions neutral.

“You ready?” Brock said. “Wu says this is routine, no big deal. Should be normal. We just gotta find the one mens’ room with the table.” His arms were full. He looked down and grinned when the baby in his arms wiggled. “A baby’s heavier than I’d thought, though.”

“Where are we going first?” Rollins asked. 

“Sixth floor,” Rumlow said. “Rodriguez says there’s one on the sixth floor.” 

“Is he serious?” Agent Kelly whispered to Agent Loring. “He’s how old and he’s never done this before?”

“I can’t believe there’s so few of these in the damn building,” Rumlow said. “Who fucking knew?”

“Shhh,” Rollins said wryly. “Don’t swear in front of little Jacqueline.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rumlow said.

***

“How late are we working tonight?” Darcy said, stifling a yawn. It was four in the afternoon. Her brain always lulled at this time of day. She felt sleepy.

“Dunno,” Jane said, still magically awake and glued to some figures on her screen. Darcy sometimes wondered how Jane hadn’t gone blind yet. “I’ve _got_ to finish this.”

“Okay, I’m getting coffee,” Darcy said, rising. When she lifted her arms, her shoulders popped. “Ow.”

“Sure,” Jane said.

“You’re totally not paying attention,” Darcy said, slinging her messenger over one shoulder.

“Vanilla bean with soy milk, please,” Jane said. “Shit.” She clicked frantically at her laptop. “You asshole,” she swore at the screen. “Tabulate! Tabulate!”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Darcy said to herself.

But at least she would buy herself a cake pop. Cake pops for the win, she thought. She tromped downstairs. “Hi!” she said cheerfully at several people. Cameron Klein stopped her.

“Darcy,” he said. “Have you seen Rumlow?”

“What?” Darcy said. Everyone at work knew they were dating now. Cameron’s smile was wide.

“You gotta see this,” he said. He led her towards the glass walled room where the technical analysts he supervised worked at long desks. “Kim brought in her baby today,” Cam said. Darcy gaped. On the other side of the glass, Brock was sitting with a chubby-cheeked, dark-haired baby in his lap. He was smiling down at the toddler. “He changed her diaper,” Cam added. “Voluntarily.”

“Seriously?” Darcy said, as Brock appeared to scoop the baby up and talk to it animatedly. The baby waved her arms around. It was weirdly...adorable. “He changed the diaper?” she asked Cam. 

“Well, I mean, the whole STRIKE team was there for backup,” Cam said. “Somebody took a video of them maintaining a tactical stance outside the sixth floor bathroom. I’m not saying it was me, but…”

“Awesome. Will you send it to me?” Darcy said gleefully. She covertly snapped a few photos of Brock herself; he was so engrossed in the baby, she didn’t think he’d even noticed she was there. 

Darcy was in the coffee line when her phone dinged. That must be Cameron’s video finally coming through. She checked her phone eagerly. “No video?” she said sadly, when it appeared that there were no new texts from Cam. She swiped at her screen. It was a text from Brock. 

“What would you like today?” the barista behind the counter asked. “Ma’am?” she repeated. Darcy looked up from her phone, stunned.

“He wants a baby,” she said. 

“Pardon me?” the barista said.

“Um, um,” Darcy stammered. “Two lattes. Soy vanilla bean and a caramel latte,” she got out. She felt like she could pass out. Was this a joke? While the steamers worked, she sank down into a chair and stared at her phone. He’d texted her a selfie of himself and the baby with a note.

**Old Stallone:** When do you want one? I want one.

“This is insane,” Darcy said to his photo. She debated going back to the lab or confronting him. It was a prank, right? It had to be. She went halfway towards the elevators to the lab, then abruptly turned back with her cardboard coffee tray. She was awake now. Her heart was beating fast. She was going to see Brock. She marched through the doors of the analysts’ room. “I know you’re making fun of me!” she said. Too loudly. Brock looked up from where he was holding Agent Wu’s baby.

“Huh?” he said.

“Is this a joke?” she said, waving her free hand at the baby.

“Watch your coffee, that’s hot,” Brock scolded.

“Are you seriously going all dad on me?” Darcy said. “Oh my God.” 

“I kinda like this kid,” he admitted. Darcy felt faint.

“Did you want a chair? You look pale,” a nearby agent said, pushing one over to her. She sat down gratefully.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She looked at Brock. “Just ‘cause you like _this_ baby, that doesn’t mean you’d like one we have. It could look like my uncle Herbert!”

“What’d he look like?” Brock said.

“Eyebrows like the Wolfman,” Darcy said. “The black and white one!”

“They got lasers for that now,” Brock said, shrugging. “It’d be all right.” 

“We’ve only been going out for a few weeks,” Darcy said slowly. 

“You asked first,” he said, looking smug.

“That is not...relevant,” Darcy said, luckily landing on the right word. “Totally not relevant.” He smirked. 

“At least think about it,” he said. “You know you want to, you made the joke first.” He grinned at Agent Wu’s baby as she babbled cheerfully. “Isn’t she cute?” he said. 

“I thought my apartment was in a bad neighborhood?” Darcy added. Even she could hear herself grasping at straws.

“Move in with me,” he said casually. “My place is nice and safe.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She looked at the baby. “What’s her name?”

“Jacqueline,” Brock said.

“But would it be safe for me to leave Jane?” Darcy wondered aloud. “Unsupervised?”

“See, you got plenty of experience,” Brock said. “Maybe she could move in with us, do that whole ‘it takes a village’ deal. Thor likes babies, right?” he said, looking canny. The question gave Darcy a terrifying mental image.

“No, no way,” Darcy said. “He’s not yeeting my baby like it’s a bag of flour!” 

“You just said my baby,” Brock said.

“I’ve seen the way he tosses babies at press events. He threw Cooper Barton _eight_ feet in the air and caught him,” Darcy hissed. 

“No village?” Brock said.

“I gotta think about it,” Darcy said.

“Has he ever hurt a baby?” Brock asked.

“No,” Darcy admitted begrudgingly. “But I wouldn’t survive the heart attack. Probably.”

“Still, she’s cute, right?” Brock said, grinning.

“Yeah,” Darcy sighed.

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such fun writing this! Thanks to Em/alaskarostova for the prompt and everyone for their comments! Y'all are lovely lovelies.


End file.
